Soldiering on

I could tell as soon as she took a seat next to me that something weighed heavily on her mind. The canary-yellow scarf which she wrapped around her head like a Muslim woman, hid the disaster that befell her last night when she decided that she wanted a change of hair style for her ball tonight. She told me in the calmest way what had happened, as the creases of her contrived smile began to fade.

A couple of weeks ago she had knocked on my door desperately needing a person to talk to and a shoulder to cry on. As soon as she was done apologising for disrupting me, in what appeared to be my time of study, she broke down and told me about the bad space that she was in.

She was worried about next year - who would pay her fees, what would happen to her poverty-stricken family, what was God's plan for her? She was struggling to find the zeal and enthusiasm which she previously had for her life and her studies. She had even considered taking the shortcut out of her depression and just ending it all.

I listened as she poured out her heart through all her tears. I felt so much sadness about the pain and anxiety that she was experiencing. I wasn't too sure on how to console a woman that bared the equivalent of the world's weight on her shoulders.

The only thing I knew to do was to take her hands in mine and invite the Lord into this situation. I prayed. I spoke to my Father and he heard my prayer. There was such peace that enveloped the room as I asked the Holy Spirit to comfort and counsel my friend. At the end of the prayer it was as though she had awoken from a deep, peaceful and rejuvenating sleep. She was calm, refreshed and positive.

The incident last night seems to have put a damper on her spirit. She told me how she had tried to remove the old synthetic braiding from her hair but all she got instead, was a hand-full of her own hair. She had lost so much hair from removing the braids that she had to wear the scarf to disguise the suspiciously large, hairless patch.

I encouraged her to visit the salon and to get her hair cut evenly to allow for fresh, healthy hair growth to emerge. She seemed consoled by my advise. When I met her later on in the day however, she had a familiar look of desperate sadness on her face. The salon trip had gone all wrong and the hairstylist had failed to understand her instructions. Tears welled up in her eyes as she helplessly looked at me shaking her head from side to side.

Her tears made more sense to me after she told me that she had been trying to grow her hair for years. And now, all that she had to show for her efforts was the remainder of what was previously a healthy head of hair. At that point I felt bad for having a full head of healthy dreadlocks. I felt like any consolation I could offer would not be good enough. But I encouraged her anyway.

I told her to soldier on. Her hair stood a good chance of growing healthily if she would grow it from scratch. I told her that everything would be okay. Once again, she seemed consoled. The tears stopped flowing and a less-contrived smile creased her face. I gave her one last hug before walking away and thinking of how grateful I am for everything that God has blessed me with, including the opportunity to be there for a friend.